After his success with Manchester United on Football Manager 2014, we wondered if Iain Macintosh could repeat the trick with Arsenal in the game's 2015 version.
July
I arrive at London Colney with a spring in my step and nearly 50 million pounds available on the company credit card. This time last year, I won the title with a woefully unbalanced Manchester United team.
All I need to do at Arsenal is finish in the top four and maybe win a cup. And look at this squad! You forget sometimes just how much talent there is at this football club. Too much to squeeze into one team if they're all fit.
My first instinct, like any rational human, is to buy Arsenal a world-class defensive midfielder, but there's just no room. I want a midfield triangle of Aaron Ramsey, Jack Wilshere and Mesut Ozil, but to do that I have to leave out club captain Mikel Arteta and ferocious terrier Mathieu Flamini while forcing men like Tomas Rosicky and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain out to the flanks to battle with Santi Cazorla and Alexis Sanchez.
It's clear where there is a real shortage though, and that's in defence. I quickly snap up Ashley Williams for six million pounds from Swansea, a stopgap rotation option while I scout carefully for a full upgrade later. It's not my money, but I feel as if I should behave as though it is.
Hmmm. That philosophy sounds familiar ...
Pre-season results are good at first, but then they start to vary wildly. I destroy Borussia Monchengladbach 4-0, but I'm annihilated 1-6 by AZ three days later with exactly the same formation. Setting tactics to suit the opposition is clearly going to be a major factor this year. But that's OK. I can do this.
August
I can't do this. I've tried 4-3-3 and 3-5-2 and I can't get any consistency out of the team. Manchester City tear us apart in the Community Shield and we're lucky to get away with a 1-2 defeat. A spirited Hull City take a point at the Emirates in the opening game of the season and the fans are on my case immediately.
Respite arrives in the form of a 3-1 victory over Feyenoord in the Champions League playoff and then leaves immediately, consigning us to three consecutive defeats against Everton, Manchester United and away to the Dutch side. We progress to the group stage, but only just.
Whatever I do, I find my team making chances, but not scoring goals. At the other end, we allow the opposition the former, and fail to deny them the latter. Per Mertesacker is a particular problem. He has a nasty habit of standing still and staring at crosses as they rise over his head, like an undiscovered tribesman spotting an airplane for the first time.
The only way I can keep anyone at bay is by flooding the midfield and urging my men not to commit themselves, but to hold their lines. It proves an effective strategy in our own half, but Danny Welbeck is later spotted sobbing with loneliness at the other end. He's not the only one close to tears.
September
It's time for Plan B. I drop any pretence of being a tactical mastermind and return to archaic English tactics: A simple 4-4-2 with a big man (Olivier Giroud) and little man (Sanchez) combination up front. One winger (the nuclear-powered Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain), one tenacious wide midfielder (Rosicky) and strict instructions for neither to desert their posts.
It works. Suddenly, we're solid. We're dull, but we're dependable. We're essentially the complete opposite of the latter half of the Wenger era. Flamini isn't very happy because I'm overstocked with central midfielders and he's barely played. Lukas Podolski isn't happy either because I forgot that I owned him. But everyone else is going with the ebb and the flow.
Victories away at West Ham and Sunderland push us back up the league. We knock Manchester City out of the League Cup. I feel a sense of satisfaction so profound that I can't help but walk around with an enormous grin on my face. That crisis? That wasn't a crisis. I was just lulling you. You got lulled. Now kneel before me!
October
Another big win, this time at home to Chelsea, and suddenly we're only a handful of points away from leaders Manchester United. But while we're picking up the prestige victories and cruising in Europe, a worrying carelessness at home is costing us points.
A draw with Aston Villa and Manchester City and suddenly all of that ground I picked up is beginning to slip away again. A few of the players are concerned that we're stuck in eighth, but I reassure them that it's all part of the plan. They seem fine with that.
Outside of the first team, I spend a serious amount of time scouting. The transfer budget is now up to 66 million pounds and, call me crazy, but I think there are areas of this team begging for an upgrade. I like Geoffrey Kondogbia at Monaco, and young Liam Moore at Leicester looks like a centre-back who could cope with a step-up.
I also tinker with the development squad and send a few of the more promising lads off on loan. You can't allow yourself to be distracted with the "now" all the time. You have to think about the future. I get the feeling I'm going to be here for a very long time.
November
Oh no, oh no, oh no, it's all going wrong again. Another draw, this time to Crystal Palace, makes it four in a row in the Premier League. I change back to a 3-5-2 in an effort to outwit Leicester City, but end up losing at home.
The board demands an explanation and, as tempted as I am to blame the feckless idiots in red shirts who put me in this position, I elect to take my lumps and accept full responsibility. They tell me that my honesty is the only reason they're not sacking me. I feel shaken. I didn't think I was in that much trouble, but a quick look at the job security table shows that I'm knee-deep and sinking fast.
Burnley at home is like a fixture sent from the gods, but within 10 minutes I'm a goal down to them as well. Frantically, I throw on a barely fit Theo Walcott and he scores twice to set up a 3-1 win. I can't begin to imagine what it was like in the Emirates. Binbags on seats, I'd wager. I'm in trouble here and it's six weeks before I can bring any replacements in.
I'm so upset that I do something quite untoward. I contact a friend who actually helps to make the game itself and I fall at his feet, begging for advice. He gives me a tactic that he says worked really well in testing. I gratefully snatch it away and quickly drill it into my players, upping their match preparation to intensify their efforts. We lose 2-0 away at Southampton.
The next day, Mesut Ozil betrays me. I hold a team meeting to find out what's going wrong and he says that nothing will change as long as I am the manager. I boot him into the under-21 squad. His cause is promptly taken up by Flamini. I transfer list the volatile Frenchman. The day after that, I get complaints from Abou Diaby. Yes, the Diaby who has been up on bricks since 1984. I transfer list him, too. Morale plummets.
It's late at night and my flat is cold. I try to do up my hooded sweatshirt, but I can't quite ... get to grips ... with the zip ... Oh no. This is how it starts, isn't it?
December
"Shame, eternal shame. Nothing but shame ... We are enough yet living in the field to smother up the English in our throngs, if any order might be thought upon ... The devil take order now! I'll to the throng. Let life be short; else shame will be too long." - Assorted French nobles, Henry V.
We lose at home to a struggling Liverpool. I can see it in the players: They've all lost faith in me. They won't defend, they won't attack. They are wraiths, haunted by my presence. I cannot continue now.
I should not have spent money in the summer. What was I thinking? I could have bought Sami Khedira for 25 million pounds. I could have bought Benedikt Howedes for 15. Why didn't I just get my wallet out?
I have brought this team down to the depths of lower mid-table. We have qualified for the next stage of the Champions League, but we always do that. If I cannot serve Arsenal as manager, let me serve them as an ex-manager. I fall upon my sword in December and let my replacement spend the transfer kitty. No one mourns my demise.
I apologise for all that I have said about Wenger. This is clearly a far tougher job than it looks. If anyone needs me, I'll be starting again at the bottom. Where I clearly belong.